The sick relative that I went to visit at the end of May died earlier
this month. It was of course sad but not at all unexpected. She had been
sick for a very long time and was continuously getting worse, so at
least she is not suffering anymore.
I kind of had this idea that I
wouldn’t go back down to Virginia for the funeral, since I don’t share
the consensus that funerals provide closure. I had gone to visit her one
more time while she was alive, and that was what mattered. I dreaded
the thought of having to go through the anxiety of the trip again. But I
couldn’t stop thinking about my family, imagining them all going
through this awful process without me, and the more I thought about it,
the more I realized I didn’t actually find that version of the future
believable. It was a weird feeling, knowing I just had to be there. Even
though I was still going through my usual indecisive back-and-forth,
part of me knew there was only one option and that no matter what ended
up happening on the trip, I would be more miserable if I didn’t go.
Because I would no longer be the person I want to be (or the person I
am?).
So anyway, I went back down there for another long weekend.
And this time, I went alone; my wife wasn’t able to go with me. I took a
different flight route and went through two airports I had never been
to before. I stayed with my family, both to offer support to them and to
try to save money and avoid the hassle of a hotel (which was a terrible
mistake, and I forgot being around my family for extended periods of
time has a horrible effect on me, but whatever). I went to a
wake/viewing and funeral, something I had not done since I was 13
(before my intense fear of death developed). I socialized with a ton of
people, family and strangers (and family members I hadn’t seen in so
long they were essentially strangers). I hung around my young nephews
again. All of these things made me nervous and tense, but I didn’t have
any panic/anxiety attacks.
When I think back over the past few
months, I’m amazed. It doesn’t seem possible that all this has happened,
especially in such a short period of time. I am always trying to
motivate myself to create an exposure hierarchy and actually stick to
it, and I don’t do it - more out of laziness than the fear of it not
going well. But life stepped in and did it for me, even proceeding from
an easy step (slow-paced planned trip to New York City by train with my
wife) to a slightly harder one (fast-paced last minute trip by plane to
Virginia with my wife, staying in a hotel) to the most
difficult/stressful so far (fast-paced last minute trip by plane to
Virginia alone, staying with my family). Throughout all this, the trip I
have to take for work (which probably will be the most difficult of
all) has been repeatedly postponed and is currently scheduled for
mid-September. I definitely feel a lot more prepared for it and confident that I can handle at least some aspects of it, like the traveling.
And
it’s not even just that I “handled” all this. Some parts of it gave me
such a high. Particularly the last most challenging trip. I feel bad
saying that, given the circumstances of why I had to make the
trip, but getting on planes and rushing through airports alone trying to
find my gate tapped into this part of me I don’t usually acknowledge.
The part of me that wishes I was the complete opposite of who I am,
someone who exudes confidence and has everything together. It’s really
rare, but every once in a while I feel like I am that opposite-of-me
person for a little while, and I always, always love it.
It reminds me of this post I wrote a long time ago (see here)
about the idea that anxiety is actually a projection of, or in some way
related to, the feeling of excitement. I want so much to be able to
face any person, any situation, any challenge (and come away from each
encounter with the certainty that I succeeded completely) that it makes
everything more terrifying. It means so much to me, that fantasy -
an unrealistic and probably unhealthy fantasy, I guess - of being
perfect and extroverted and effortless and charming. I know I’m never
going to be that person, at least not to the extent I want to be,
because I can’t change my entire identity/personality. But it’s nice to
have those brief moments where I feel like I am coming across that way
to the people around me. And it’s also nice to view anxiety as, in some
way, an indicator of my dreams and goals and not just as the sick/defective
part of me.
